Resident Rules
by Garmi
Summary: Don't worry, nothing like Cider House Rules. Good movie, bad RE fic. It's a list of rules our heros have come up with and the story behind, and after, each. Third chapter up!
1. the dogs

Rules: To be followed by local members of the resistance  
  
1. No getting up in the middle of the night if a guest is at your house or you are a guest at someone else's  
  
2. Hall and bathroom lights must always be on after 7:00pm  
  
3. Don't be late to see the shrink  
  
4. After 8:00pm No one can answer the phone but Chris  
  
5. Pet shops are ok, put pounds should be avoided  
  
6. No hitting the driver  
  
7. Music is chosen by a majority vote, if there are only two people the host/driver gets to choose  
  
8. Men- girl sleepovers are a weekly occurrence, join at your own risk  
  
9. Ladies- boys will have sleepovers, too, if you go over to the house you will most likely find them drunk or sleeping, enter at your own risk  
  
10. Do not question the fairness of the PS2 gaming tournaments  
  
11. Do not lick it unless you plan to buy it  
  
13. All weapons must have a safety device and must be locked up  
  
14. Sherry is NOT allowed to practice driving while any object is a hundred yards near her  
  
  
  
-written by Jill, Chris, Carlos, Leon, Sherry, Rebecca, and Claire  
  
  
Chris put the pen down and held up the list, his chicken writing hardly readable. Everyone was in the living room, fitting cozily on the couch or two chairs, Chris leaning over the table to finish writing the list in the dim lamp light. Two months ago the last Umbrella facility was destroyed. But they weren't celebrating, the news had reported the same story four months ago, and five months ago, to say Umbrella had a lot of labs would be an understatement.  
  
To say the fight was easy would be a lie. Mansions, hotels, cities, underground labs, Antarctica wasn't the last place filled with zombies just dieing to give you a hickey. Chris looked around the room, his family was here, but they weren't the family he knew back in 1998. Well, considering he didn't even know half of them in 98' but that wasn't the point. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, suddenly he realized he had been staring at Jill. Again. Damnit! He also noticed he had missed a conversation, an important one judging by the glare Leon was giving him.  
  
"Chris! I said, 'can you type that up into readable copies?'" Leon handed him the list, when did Chris let go of that? He didn't know.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Sure. I'll, just, uh… grab my laptop." He stood up, wiggling himself out from between Claire and Carlos, and headed out of the living room slowly, still lost in his thoughts.  
  
Somewhere along the way the media got a hold of what they were doing. Some stupid reporter who was doing a story on people being eaten decided to check and see if any other cities had the same problem. It seems Umbrella isn't as careful as we thought, Chris chuckled. 47 other occurrences, all with one thing in common. Well, besides killer dogs and zombies. Umbrella facilities were all located in the area. So it was out, just like that, Umbrella was blamed. And, since Umbrella was this huge worldwide company, the news spread like wildfire.  
  
Chris reached a door at the end of the hall, slowly twisting the knob and pushing it open before scraping his hand along the wall for the light switch. He drifted back to his thoughts. They hadn't covered their tracks well, either. Soon the news of their resistance joined the news of Umbrella's crimes, it was only then that Chris got a good estimate of just how many of them there were. He knew that Leon had friends, along with Carlos, and Sherry's parents had lots of allies, not to mention Steve's friends and Ada… anyway, the number? 428. His jaw dropped the first time he heard it, and everyone had a name, which Umbrella now had on a list somewhere. The news gave them new enemies, like the governments of foreign countries along with America, but the number of cops who joined…  
  
He grabbed the laptop off of a table, along with the printer from the floor. They were left unplugged because paranoia in the group was at an all time high. Hackers, like most of their fears, seemed immature and stupid during the day, but at night they became obsessively real. The reason he put rule #4 on the list. Jill would call, scared of something, or Leon would call asking stupid things like if the X-Box really had a chip that watched you in it, Carlos would talk about the news people on the TV giving him glares, and he also got calls from other resistance fighters. Thank God the line was safe.  
  
Chris sighed, turning to leave the room only to find Jill in the doorway, the darkness in the empty hall trying to steal her away from him.  
  
"Are you ok?" She smiled a sad smile, watching him.  
  
No. "Yeah." I'm scared, and so tired. "I'm fine." Don't leave. "When will you be out of here tonight?" Please say you'll stay.  
  
Her sad smile returned. "A few minutes. We all are."  
  
Oh. "Oh." Chris reached to run a hand through his hair, realizing he still had the laptop and printer. "Well, let me get these printed for you guys, first." Jill nodded, turned and walked out, the darkness finally stealing her away from him, like after the mansion... He sighed, the sleepless nights of phone calls wearing him down. He was in love with her, he knew it, just like Leon hung off of his sister. He even thought she might love him back, or at least like him more than Carlos. Like Claire liked Leon. Stupid Umbrella, he couldn't even date because… what was his excuse again? Oh yeah, if he lost her while they were, uh, involved, he'd never get over it. A little lie… A big lie. He knew it wasn't true, if he lost her now he'd probably never forgive himself for sitting on his ass and not making a move.  
  
Chris turned off the light with his elbow and headed down the lightless hall lined with puke green carpeting and flower wallpaper, tearing here or there. So the house was old… filled with boxes… only had two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room… it was… Chris stopped by a window, the branches scraping against it.  
  
His mind flashed back to the mansion, the wall paper changing a different shade and the hall becoming longer in front of his eyes. The dog jumped through the window, spraying him with glass and leaping on him before he could reach for his 9mm, blood splashing everywhere… His teeth coming mere millimeters from Chris's arm. He fell to the ground and dropped the laptop, caught in the moment, and reached for his 9mm. His hand grazed his side just as the laptop hit the floor. He jumped at the sound and the hallway switched back to normal. He lay on his back and breathed deeply, sweet breaking out slowly as the adrenalin left his system. So tired… so real. Get up before the memories come back, Chris. If they find out your hallucinating…  
  
"Chris? Are you ok?" Jill rushed over to him after seeing him on the floor. Her face came into his vision. Huh… don't remember that part…  
  
"Yeah…" The truth? No, she didn't ask, so I can lie. "Tripped."  
  
"You sure?" Lock of hair falling from behind her ear. His hand reached an inch off the floor before he forced it back down. No touchy. "What's that?" She tilted her head and looked down at his arm where the laptop was. He looked down, too. Blood. Blood? From the dog? No… the computer, I must've… Chris turned his head and saw the broken laptop with a wire sticking out, it's tip coated with blood. …smashed it. Shit.  
  
She touched his chin, just barely, with her finger and thumb. His head snapped back towards hers, he swallowed. "You need to sleep, Chris."  
  
He broke eye contact, looking back at the smashed laptop. He must've thrown it down. "Can't…"  
  
Jill stood up, holding out her hands for Chris Redfield to take. He sat up, a hand immediately grabbing his head. Stupid insomnia, why do feeling tired and having a headache feel so alike? He blindly reached out for Jill with his other hand, which she grabbed, pulling him up. He reached for the printer, which had survived the fall, but Jill held out her hand.  
  
"Leave it."  
  
Ok. "Ok…" He slowly relaxed as she guided him down the hall, her arm wrapped around his for support, the wound forgotten. The hairs on the back of Chris' neck stood up after a few feet. What if… what if the dog were still there… he hadn't killed it, after all… Jill felt him tense up, he didn't dare look behind him, because then it would know he knew it was there…  
  
"Chris?" Jill rubbed his flexed arm. "What's wrong?" He had his eyes closed shut, so Jill just finished leading him into the living room. Claire was the only one left, Sherry in bed and everyone else staying at different safe houses. Jill escorted Chris over to one of the two cheap recliner chairs and shoved him down. He slowly opened one eye, then the other.  
  
Claire watched him as Jill went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. "You should go to sleep."  
  
Chris raised a tired eyebrow, "can't sleep… Dog'll come back…" Nightmares, everyone had them, even Chris. Jill set the glass of water down on the table and slid her finger delicately over the small scratch that damned laptop gave him. The wound had closed, it wouldn't scar over, that was good. Chris immediately relaxed at the light touch, his eyes drifting shut, no dog in his mind, just Jill. Just Valentine. Just…  
  
"He's out." Claire grabbed his water. "Well, I'm off to my room, Sherry still has nightmares." She stood up and headed down that stupid hall.  
  
Jill nodded, watching Chris sleep, her fingers dancing lightly on his arm. "Everyone does."  
  
  
A/N I don't own RE or it's characters. Right. Well, here's what I'm thinking. For each one of the rules I do a chapter. That would make this a LD fick… that is to say; light and dark. Or I could just leave it. And I think I might mess around with the POVs, maybe throw in some romance. R/R and tell me what you think! 


	2. Motion lotion

1. No getting up in the middle of the night if a guest is at your house or you are a guest at someone else's  
  
  
"Bathroom…" Leon threw the covers off of him, eyes half open. "Shit." He sat up slowly, stretching his neck and wiggling his toes while wiping sweat off his forehead. He looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand. 1:49. "You've gotta be kidding me…"  
  
He stood up, looking down at his worn pajamas, something to focus on until the dizziness went away. He walked out of the room slowly, dragging himself into the hall and leaning against the doorframe. "Leon… try some of my dessert… it's good, Chris likes it." He frowned at the memory. "Chris grew up with Claire, his stomach can handle anything. Stupid girls, trying to poison me." He slowly started down the hall, dragging his feet.  
  
What door was it again? He grabbed a door on the right and gently pushed it open to find Sherry and Claire sleeping peacefully. Damn them… Sherry should be sick, too, but instead she gave her meal to Rufus, probably used to it because of her parents, scientists making evil viruses probably can't cook.  
  
Must be the next one… he scratched the back of his head, making ridiculously slow progress towards the next door, the windows casting an eerie glow in the hall, sort of like Police Headquarters, only without all the artsy… stuff.  
  
He pushed the door open and peeked in. Yeah, smells funny, either Chris's room or the bathroom. He flicked the light switch, immediately shutting his eyes. Can't… see…  
  
  
Sherry stirred and opened her eyes, watching the doorway from the top bunk. She couldn't sleep. Didn't want to, but she thought she heard something. There it was again, sounded like a door…  
  
"Ough…" What was that? She lay flat on her back and shut her eyes. Not a dog… Not a zombie… Not a dog… Not a zomb- Her eyes shot open as she heard a soft stomach growl. Leon. A smile crossed her lips. Don't like my cherry and pecan pudding, Leon? Sherry had learned one thing well during her time spent with the cops trying to bring down Umbrella; revenge is best when impossible to forget.  
  
She watched the shadows patiently, she could hear Leon's mumbling and scrapings as he made his way down the long hall. Half asleep, good. He slowly came towards the door, scraping his hand on the wall loudly to catch his balance.  
  
Sherry sucked in a breath and sat straight up in bed. "ZOMBIE! CLAIRE!" Claire jumped out of the bottom bunk and grabbed her berretta, lining her shot with the door and watching the shadows.  
  
"Uhg…" She heard it, but her brain wasn't working yet. Her finger gripped the trigger, pulling it back way too soon. She knew it immediately.  
  
Sherry closed her eyes as a single shot rang out. Claire would miss because she was tired, that's how it was.  
  
"AH SHIT!"  
  
CRASH!  
  
Claire pulled her pistol back and raised an eyebrow. Zombies didn't say shit… "Leon? Is that you?" Oops. She couldn't see anything. But she could hear someone else coming down the hall.  
  
"What the hell is going on out here?!? …FUCK!!"  
  
CRASH!  
  
"OW! REDFIELD!"  
  
Claire sighed, Chris had found Leon. Sherry grinned, quite happy with herself, and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.  
  
"Leon?! What are you doing down here?"  
  
"Avoiding bullets." Claire walked over to the door and turned on the lights in her room. Sherry was sitting up in the top bunk, gripping the covers near her face to hide her amusement. Claire's berretta dropped by her side as she stared at the two most important men in her life. Leon was on his side against the wall opposite the door, Chris on his stomach directly on top of him, their legs intertwined.  
  
"Chris."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Get… Off!" Leon tried to shove him off with a hand, but found he was pinned down.  
  
"Say uncle."  
  
"Damnit Redfield!"  
  
"Say… 'Claire's food is sooo good I could eat all the leftovers for you guys.'"  
  
Leon's face scrunched up in disgust. "What? Ew! No way!"  
  
Chris grinned. The adrenalin slowly leaving his system and being replaced by giddy tiredness. "Say… 'I use motion lotion when I-"  
  
Claire's eyes widened. "Chris!"  
  
Chris frowned, disappointed that he hadn't gotten Leon to say anything. He reluctantly rolled onto his back, looking up at Claire. "What?"  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "I almost shot Leon!"  
  
Leon nodded. "Thank god she sucks."  
  
"Bite me." She stuck out her tongue.  
  
Leon sat up and raised an eyebrow. "Gladly."  
  
"Hey!" Chris pushed Leon back down. "Nobody bites my sister!"  
  
Claire smirked. "That's what you think."  
  
She walked back into the room and slammed the door shut on both men. Chris's mouth hung open in amazement. He turned and glared back at Leon.  
  
"No more getting up at night." Chris stood up, dusted himself off, and headed back down the hall to his bedroom. Leon looked at the bullet hole in the wall inches from his head. Chris's words ringing in the back of his mind. Motion lotion? Have to try that…  
  
  
  
I don't own anything. Kinda short, I know. The chapters will probably be a mix of serious, romantic, and comedy, just for shits and giggles. Let me know what you guys think, I'm not sure if I like this chapter as much as the others. Ahem, other… same difference. 


	3. Pickles and Hallways

2. Hall and bathroom lights must always be on after 7:00pm  
  
  
  
"What do you mean you don't love me?"  
  
Click  
  
"New and impr-"  
  
Click  
  
"I'll never let go!"  
  
Click  
  
"So two mice and a dog walk into a-"  
  
Click  
  
"You've got two coconuts and you're banging them together!"  
  
Click  
  
"It's the end of the world as we-"  
  
Click  
  
Jill turned off the television and threw the remote next to her on the green striped couch.. "Nine channels and nothing's on. It's impossible!" She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting out a bored sigh. She was exhausted, her muscles sore and her head foggy. But it was only seven, and she was too stressed out to sleep, leaving her very jumpy.  
  
"I did it!" Jill's muscles jumped, startled, and she opened her eyes and tilted her head further so she could see behind the couch.  
  
"Did what?"  
  
Rebecca stood in the doorway holding a pickle jar in one hand and it's top in the other. "I got the pickle jar open all by myself!" She grinned and skipped back into the kitchen. Jill let a smile fall on her lips as she brought her head forward to stare at the blank television screen again.  
  
Boy did her life suddenly suck. Well, technically it had been awful since that stupid mansion, but it got better for awhile. Now it was a speck deep in a black hole of suckiness. Jill tilted her head to the side. Now she was sounding like a frustrated melodramatic teenager, and she certainly should be. Well… not a teenager, obviously… damnit Valentine! Why so ditzy? She sighed. Ah! She looked around, her nerves once again tightening. Alcohol. Need alcohol.  
  
Jill got up and paced in front of the couch, frustrated. She should call Chris, but Chris was part of the problem. Chris was always part of the problem, then again, he was part of everything when it came to her life, but only because he insisted on being so damn protective. The bastard. She glared at the phone on the end table. The lamp light seemed to be concentrating on its shiny surface, calling her to it.  
  
She stopped pacing and started towards the phone. No, Jill, Chris can't help you this time. She bit her lip, Rebecca would know what to do.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Becky?"  
  
A distant voice echoed through the hallway from the kitchen. "Yeah, Jill?"  
  
Jill turned around and headed towards the kitchen, smiling. "What're you eating?"  
  
A slight pause. "Pickles…" She heard a distant sigh. "I was gonna have a sandwich, but I couldn't get the mayo jar open." Jill walked in to find Rebecca sitting at the island on a metal stool, fishing pickles out of her jar with a fork, her previous victory forgotten. Jill smiled a sad smile, Rebecca seemed to have the worst luck.  
  
Jill reached to open the mayo jar, but thought better of it. Some people were sensitive about those kind of things and Jill did not know Becky as well as she knew the others. Well, not as well as Chris. Stupid Redfield. Why was she mad at him again? She couldn't remember, but it was important at the time, probably something about him breathing down her back every second to make sure she didn't hurt herself. She was a thief, for crying out loud! Survived three mansions, two cities, and a circus! That circus was weird… monkeys shouldn't be able to…  
  
Jill brought up a hand to cover her mouth as she yawned, the adrenaline from worrying dieing off. "I'm going to head to my room and get some work done for the anti-U's in Maine. They're still trying to catch all of the infected fish in the bay."  
  
Rebecca nodded and staked another pickle with her fork as Jill headed down the hall. "See you in the morning then, thanks for letting me stay over."  
  
Jill's distant voice reached the kitchen right before the hallway light went off. "Anytime."  
  
Rebecca looked at her forked pickle and frowned, she was starving and had not gotten a chance to grab some food before leaving her safe house. Stupid non-existent Umbrella members, anytime someone new came into the apartment she'd hide somewhere else. Not scared. Not exactly, the feeling was hard to explain. Paranoid was a better word. It sounded less childish, and Rebecca was no child, not anymore. No matter how they looked at her. She was, after all, older than Sherry. But not by much, about six years. Like Claire… which was not saying much in her defense…  
  
Her stomach growled, causing her to focus on the pickle in hand once again. She sighed and set it on the counter, standing up and turning towards the hallway Jill had just gone down. The very last door led to the garage, where a freshly stocked pantry full of comfort food and snacks waited for her. Called for her. She suddenly new what a man must feel like, her brain was shut down and replaced by an ever growling stomach.  
  
She took a step forward before noticing the darkness and being hit with a sense of de ja vu. In the mansion, before Chris had arrived and after she felt like she lost everyone, she had wandered into the kitchen looking for another ammo cartridge, Billy was… upstairs, God, she missed Billy.  
  
Rebecca closed her eyes, letting her hand skim the top of the cold counter, its smooth, cool surface tingling her fingers. She remembered that the kitchen lights were on, two lamps hanging over the tables, shining off of the metal and illuminating the room in a silver glow. She could almost hear the zombie in the other room, trying to open the door with its smashed fingers, courtesy of her. The kitchen had been empty, except for a puddle of blood on the floor. She could still hear herself walk through it, looking down in surprise… the smell burning her nostrils.  
  
She had been in the mansion for what seemed like days, she remembered how tired she was when she entered the kitchen, bathed in light, a sanctuary for the weak of heart. Rebecca shuddered and opened her eyes, finding herself back in Jill's kitchen, the flower covered walls and dull white countertops an extreme opposite of the kitchen Umbrella's slaves made their meals in.  
  
Yet as she stared down the dark hall it became clear that they had one similarity. She closed her eyes, the yellow light surrounding the hallway turning an all too familiar silver and the room slowly morphing into the room of her memory, plain, but unforgettable. They did not know what it was like in that mansion, knowing it was just before dusk outside and if she could just get to that front door… The thought almost drove her insane. Front door, freedom. After the darkness there will be no other chance to escape. "Beware the land where angels fear to tread." The quote ran through her mind for the hundredth time in that kitchen.  
  
They were not like her, they were not there from the beginning, she was. She did not understand, just a child. She was no child now. They were not on the train, did not see the first zombie, she did. Her stomach growled, she let her thoughts settle as her more basic needs drove her towards the hall. The zombies were also based on a very basic need; to feed, a disturbing side affect of the virus. She read it from a report, written by a scientist, found on a table, in a basement, of a mansion, in a forest, near a city. But she would not think about that right now. She would not think about zombies or dark halls because she knew a trick, a little itty bitty trick that she would never share with them. A clever trick- very clever, and simple in the simplest of ways.  
  
Rebecca started walking down the hall, smiling to herself. A trick that she got from learning how to deal with blood and hospitals. "Ring around the rosy… pockets full of posy…" She sang it gently, like her mother used to sing to her.  
  
Rebecca's mother was alive, which hurt a thousand times worse than her being dead. She had not seen her mother since the whole thing started and she was more homesick than she would have thought possible. Sherry's parents were dead, but they left behind a small group of friends who joined the resistance after their deaths, apparently the scientists had been planning to do the same and were caught, which led to their deaths, hard to believe since her father created that virus that… But her mother was willing to create a cure… But they were dead. Sherry could get over that, as horrible as it sounded, but Rebecca could not even contact her mom for fear of Umbrella finding out.  
  
Suddenly the hallway seemed a lot longer, the light behind her casting an eerie glow and making her feel like she was walking out of heaven and into the depths of hell. The shadows did not dance or move, just watched as she passed, making her every step weigh her down. Hallways were horrible places to get caught in. But that was where Rebecca was and she was not about to complain if nobody was around to listen.  
  
Suddenly another thought came to her… She hadn't cried yet. Four years, and she couldn't remember crying. Maybe she did, in the beginning. Not since. She knew the others did, but she was a medic. Trained to push all human thoughts away and do her damn job.  
  
As she continued down the hall, near the halfway point, her heart swelled in longing. She had done a horrible thing, not letting herself morn. Her throat closed up, and she stopped, trying not to think. She closed her eyes and let a silent tear roll down. Good, maybe this will be a quiet cry. She let out a choked sob, her face contorting in emotion, and slid to the floor, covering her face in her hands.  
  
"…Beccy?" Jill opened the door to her room, bathing the hall in light. She took in Rebecca's shaking form and slowly walked down the hall, sliding down beside her. "I… Haven't cried, either." And suddenly she did.  
  
***  
  
It was the cries of the vanquished that her heart so desired.  
  
Yay! 'Nother chappy finished! Can you feel the bonding magic? 


End file.
